The First Guardian
by Carol Molliniere
Summary: Sequel. After the Kishin Asura is defeated, Pitch Black wakes up to a world where the old Lord Death is dead, and the Guardians are long gone. All the while, a certain meister has dreams involving certain people. Will Maka be the key to saving the world, stopping Pitch - and bringing the Guardians back?
1. The Dark Moon

**The First Guardian  
**

**By: Carol Molliniere**

**A/N: More sequels! But speaking of sequels, I'm supposed to be researching on how_ bar mitzvahs_ work and getting back to "The Children of the King"...sorry.**

**Anyway, this is the obvious sequel to "Will They Let Us Down?"; in which Maka and her friends have to confront a newly revived Pitch! It's better than it looks. I know; I'm planning for it to be better than the previous one. With no poorly thought-out battle scenes. It's gonna be awesome. I feel confident.**

**But back to business.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater or Rise of the Guardians. I only own this crossover timeline and a certain OC.**

* * *

"Going to bed, Maka."

"Alright. Good night, Soul."

After her weapon retreated into his room, there was silence around her. Maka stared out the window, absently stroking Blair's fur; the cat was asleep in her lap. There were hardly any stars in the sky, and even though there were just a few, Maka thought these twinkling lights were a cold comfort as Maka stared at the blackened moon.

"_I was so happy...that you really came to somewhere like this for me..."_

"_I just want to pay you back, Maka. You just gave me courage after all."_

"_I simply want to fight for you, Maka."_

"_I believe in you."_

"Crona..." Maka muttered before falling asleep herself.

* * *

The moment she closed her eyes, a bright light flashed across the night sky, rivalling the light of the stars for a split second.

If one had a telescope, they would have seen that the light wasn't a shooting star at all, but a figure of light.

The spectral girl flew high above the buildings, watching and waiting. She wanted to fight the large Shadow as soon as it was revived, but she knew she couldn't handle anymore staying in Pitch's cold heart, freezing the evil in him and thaw the good in him, leaving him unable to move until she escaped through the sunlight.

(Someone she knew was much better at it than her.)

The diamond dagger hung on her belt, waiting for an opportunity to be used.

"Must find help," her voice echoed through the night.

* * *

Maka walked around, wondering where she was. She seemed to be walking on the ceiling of an old house, for all the things that could be identified as furniture were above her, upside down.

"Hello?" she asked to no one in particular. When no one answered, the meister sighed and sat under – maybe over – the window.

All of a sudden, a glow from outside caused Maka to look up. The night had never been this bright, she thought to herself. When she looked out the window, something caught her attention.

Instead of being covered in black, the Moon was full and round and colored a milky white, shining brighter than ever before. A friendly, smiling face seemed to be painted on its surface.

Maka gaped. She had never seen the Moon like this before. From what she had read in some books, the only time the Moon had been like this was before the Kishin was sealed away under Shibusen—

_Creak._

Maka looked up. Someone was moving closer to her. So she wasn't so alone after all. What sounded like boots clacked on the wooden ceiling, closing the distance between them faster and considered fighting against this stranger, but then she saw his face – something in his eyes convinced her that he meant no harm.

He fell in front of her, begging and weeping spontaneously. "Please," she heard him say, "please help me..."

"What?" she asked. "Wh-who are you?"

"Help me, please," he went on, "Maka."

"Maka!"

* * *

Her green eyes snapped open, and then she yawned. Had she fallen asleep...?

"Good, you're awake," Soul said, putting his hands in his pockets. "Sleeping in isn't cool at all; at least, that's what you tell me all the time. Come on, we're gonna be late."

Maka looked down at her feet for a while, pondering the dream she had just had.

"Who was..." she trailed off.

"Who was what?"

"...No, nothing." She shook her head and stood up, getting her clothes while Soul left the room.

No use getting worked up about it; it was just a harmless dream, after all...right?

* * *

Somewhere very, very far away, another figure smiled as they felt Maka's soul response.

"...Found you..."

* * *

**(Who is the glowing figure? What was Maka's strange dream all about? And what about that mysterious person at the end? Could it be possible that...it was Pitch?**

**More to come!)**


	2. A Sleigh and A Spectral Girl

**(A/N: Alright, are we ready to go? Got any chores to do? Do them. Finishing your homework? Finish it. Do you still want to read on and ignore your chores _and_ your homework? Just...whatever.**

**Disclaimer: I no own anything. Except for ideas.**

* * *

Maka opened her eyes to a burst of wind rushing into her face. She blinked, and sat up. Where was she...?

The wood under her lurched, and she grabbed onto the side, air being knocked out of her. When she looked over the edge, Maka realized that she was inside a wooden moving vehicle!

This probably wasn't a car, for cars do not fly in the air high above mountains; but it wasn't a plane, either, despite the wings sticking out of the device. Maka feared for a moment she might have been kidnapped – but then, she remembered, what was she worrying about? She was Maka Albarn! A born meister who created a Death Scythe out of Soul and faced the Kishin Asura! She could handle this situation!

"Ah! So you are awake now!" a voice – Maka noted that it sounded strangely Russian – boomed from the front. She crawled over to the front to see a large, smiling man with big blue eyes and a bushy beard looking at her momentarily before turning back to his steering. "Enjoying the sleigh, are we not?" "Sleigh?" Maka asked in disbelief. This was a _flying_ sleigh? Well, that explained what it was, but where was she and where was this thing headed? She peered over the front seat to see what was pulling the sleigh – and there were many reindeer attached to the reins in front of her, flying just as the red sleigh was, and Maka felt like a trout as her mouth popped open. "Wonderful, is it not?" the man in front of her said, beaming. Maka could tell that he was proud of this thing, whatever it was.

She looked around. _What a view._ Maka then closed her eyes, feeling the Wind caress her face and run through her pigtails. This was nice, she thought. It reminded her of flying with Soul.

_Soul._

Where was he? He should be enjoying this with her right now.

The man chuckled, deep and heartily. She had to smile as well, this was _great_. The cool air was refreshing. She needed to take a break like this every once in a while.

"It's time for you to wake up now, Maka," the man said.

Her eyes opened. "Huh?"

* * *

A scapel hit the spot right in front of where Maka was sleeping. She jolted up, and quite a bit of the class snickered. One person that wasn't amused for sure, though, was Professor Stein, standing in the front. "You're not one to sleep in class, Maka," he said, brandishing another scapel. "Sleep some more and I'll have a good reason to cut you up and find out why."

"Sorry," Maka quickly apologized, turning red in shame. She wasn't supposed to sleep in class; what had possessed her to do so? This was terrible. This was the bane of her existence!

Soul shook his head. "Not cool at all, Maka. Not cool."

"I know..." she groaned through her palms, which were cupping her red face. She just wanted to disappear from the giggles and snorts and voices of her classmates.

Soul rested his chin in his hand, then sighed. He didn't want to admit the reason he didn't wake her up before was the fact that she looked so peaceful. Even though it had been weeks after the Kishin was sealed by Crona's mad blood, they could all use a little more rest. Maybe some days off of school; though under Kid's administration, the students have had plenty.

A tapping on the window roused Soul from his thoughts. He turned to the window behind him, and was met with a bright glow. He squinted to see better, but then he realized the tapping was coming from a spectral figure, glowing as bright as the stars in the sky, if one bothered to look up at any stars. She smiled, seeing that she caught his attention, and pressed her face against the glass.

He stared a little at her, feeling uncomfortable. Was she seeking him out...? She couldn't. Who was that, anyway? Why was she staring at him like there was no tomorrow?

"And Soul. You're staring off into space as well."

The Death Scythe snapped to attention as his name was called. "What?" he asked. "No, I wasn't–" he tried to defend himself, but when Soul turned towards the window, the spectral girl was gone. "What..." he mumbled.

"Get back to listening to the lecture," he warned the weapon-meister pair, "or you'll suffer the wrath of my detention."

Maka looked up as Soul slouched, in his seat, frowning.

"Who's the not-so cool one now?"

"Shut up. Cool's my middle name."

Maka rolled her eyes. Yeah, right.

* * *

A few minutes later, Soul took a glance back at the window to see if she was really gone or just messing with him. What he saw, though, was a fogged-up window, as if the spectral girl had breathed on it and written, in neat handwriting, two words:

"_Tell Maka."_

* * *

**(Next chapter coming up when I can post it.)**


	3. The Writing on the Window

"Hey, Maka?"

"Yeah?"

Soul jabbed a finger in the direction of the window behind him, after classes were finished. "I have to show you something." Maka, curiously tilting her head, walked up to the window, Soul in tow. Most foggy-breath window writing doesn't take long to vanish, so the new and last Death Scythe would have to explain things to her.

What he didn't expect her to find, though, was the writing that was still there, as if the writer had fogged it up and written on it over and over again in order to preserve the message. _"Tell Maka"_ was still written in clean handwriting, the way he had seen it before.

"Huh?" Maka said. "Who wrote this?" Soul shrugged. "There was some weird bright person here, pressing her face against the windowpane, staring at me. I think she was like a ghost or something."

Maka peered closer at the writing on the window. "Some 'ghost' wrote it? Then what is this 'ghost' trying to tell me?" She put a hand to the window, and then suddenly the writing disappeared. "What the hell..." Soul murmured, but then the meister-weapon pair watched as the window seemed to magically fog up again. Before long, new, smaller writing appeared on the foggy glass.

"_You found my writing. I was afraid that you wouldn't read it, but I know someone like you wouldn't let this text go unnoticed. Or not; maybe you're not that kind of person. I don't really know, I haven't met you yet. But soon I will."_

"What the hell is this?" Soul asked. Maka shrugged. "I don't know, Soul. But this sounds important. We can't ignore something like this." "Maka," her weapon warned her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "it could be from someone dangerous, for all we know."

Before he could say anything more, the sound of something tapping on the window caught Maka's attention, and she looked up, Soul following suit. There, outside, was the spectral girl. Upon seeing them looking at her, she smiled and waved.

Maka blinked. "Is that...?" "Yeah," Soul confirmed. "It's her."

They watched as she breathed on the glass yet again and then wrote some more words before flying away in a burst of light.

"_Pitch has come back."_

They stared at the message before it faded, like regular foggy breaths on the windows would.

"...Who's Pitch?"

* * *

Somewhere, on the other side of America, an old farmer walked along a road, not seeming to tire from his ceaseless travelling. He held a rather large pitchfork in his gloved hand, and he looked like someone that we should all be afraid of.

But who wouldn't be afraid of someone possessed by Pitch Black, the Nightmare King?

Children were playing by the road (which, thankfully, had no cars driving on it considering it was in the countryside), unaware of the darkness surrounding the aura of the farmer walking on it. They frolicked and they laughed, and it sickened him. _Children._ The reason why the Guardians would stop at nothing to make him suffer, the reason they thought holding fear back was such a good idea! Well, no one can stop fear! Not even the so-called Guardians of Childhood! These "heroes" tarnished the meaning of fear and made it dangerous, made it a bad thing! What _should_ have been dangerous was the absence of fear! What was life without fear? Humans should _live in fear_. That was the way it was supposed to be.

The old farmer walked over to the children playing, and warned them, "Don't you know that playing on a road is unsafe?" A growl was hidden in his voice, but it wasn't enough to make the children go away. Instead, they just cowered and didn't move.

But what they were experiencing was fear all the same. Not fear of being run over, but fear of him.

_Yes. Fear me._

His shadow loomed over them, big and intimidating.

_Fear me._

The smaller ones were one step away from screaming as he raised his pitchfork, ready to instill pure darkness and fear into them – and through them, soon the whole world.

"Where are your Guardians now, children?" He asked, throwing his head back; but something reached his ears that made him look back down.

"Guardians?" a little girl asked, as if she had never heard the term before – which she hadn't. "Who are the 'Guardians'?"

Pitch looked over them, scanning them. None of them believed in the Guardians – not Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy or the Sandman or Jack Frost or Mother Goose. (Nightlight was always at full power even though he didn't have many believers; at least not many compared to the others.)

So his plan had accomplished something centuries ago after all, he thought as he threw the pitchfork down and let shadows consume the children.

Later, it was known across the town that seven kids had gone missing when they didn't come home for dinner at all after leaving to play by the side of the road. People feared that they had been killed or kidnapped, especially their heartbroken parents.

But only an old farmer knew what had become of the children.

They had become his new Fearlings.

* * *

**(dun-dun-dun...)**

**(You know in the books, Fearlings were once children, right?)**


	4. In The Death Room

**(A/N: Sorry for the late update, school and real life and other fandoms [i.e. Attack on Titan, Harry Potter, Artemis Fowl] and just overall writer's block in general have gotten in the way. Hopefully I haven't let you all down.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except for one certain character that appears in this chapter.)**

* * *

"Man, that was some weird encounter," Soul said as they walked down the hallway. Maka nodded. "She wasn't very clear at all about what she wanted us to do. If we don't have a clue about what we have to do, how are we supposed to help her?"

Her weapon opened his mouth, but before anything could come out, the loudspeaker above them buzzed.

"_Death Scythe Soul Eater and meister Maka Albarn, please report to the Death Room. Repeating..."_

The weapon-meister pair blinked, and then they looked back at each other before heading to the Death Room – where the new shinigami was residing.

"Do you think Kid knows anything about this Pitch?"

"I seriously doubt it."

* * *

They soon found themselves walking across the path leading to the main platform. The blades on the guillotines looked sharp and deadly as always, but they had lost their fear of the guillotines falling on them and decapitating them long ago. The old Lord Death had chosen them for security purposes – and hopefully for a room that demonstrated good taste in decorating. (Well, decorating _any_ room called the "Death Room" would end up like this eventually.)

When they finally reached the center of the room, they saw their old friend Death the Kid (now Shinigami-sama) standing in front of the mirror. At his side was Maka's father, Spirit Albarn, carrying a stack of books. Since Kid was still young and still a student, he needed to continue his studying, which explained the books.

And in front of the reaper stood a woman who was ridiculously tall – Maka estimated that she was about 8 feet tall. She was talking with Kid, their conversation coming in hushed tones:

"_Are you sure you should have called her?"_

"_Yes, she is the one."_

"_Are you sure? I mean, it's thanks to her and Soul that we were able to defeat the Kishin that time, but–"_

"_Trust me; she can stop Pitch as well."_

_Pitch. _So Kid did know about this. But had they been talking about her? Maka's eyebrows creased; is that what she had been called here for?

She then happened to look upon her father. At first Maka thought that he was listening intently to Kid and the woman – he had, after all, begun to take his job more seriously ever since the Kishin had escaped, and now more than ever since Kid's father passed on. But then closer study revealed that not only was Spirit doing that, but also managing to sneak a few glances down at the woman's chest.

Even if it was just the madness of "boobs", as Kid had called it, needless to say Maka was offended.

"Ahem," Soul coughed, and the three turned to look at the weapon-meister pair. The older Death Scythe's face lit up at the sight of his daughter, but before he could give her a hug (or anything along those lines), she turned her cheek and didn't look at him. A moment later, Spirit was sulking in the corner, upset about her apathy.

A sweet, resonant laugh sounded, and Maka looked up at the tall woman, who was coming over and in a matter of steps had beated Spirit to a chance to embrace Maka. The meister was a little surprised at first, and then took in a deep breath. The woman was warm, and comfortingly so, and she smelled of fire.

"So you are Maka," the woman said, letting go of her, and then Maka ran a hand over her forehead, feeling lightheaded. The woman looked at the younger Death Scythe. "And this is Soul, if I'm not mistaken." Soul just nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"My name is Lady Solar," she continued, putting a hand on her sun-shaped necklace. "I came here to warn Lord Death of something very grave. You see, an old enemy, Pitch Black the Nightmare King, is back from–"

"Yeah, we know," Soul interrupted. "Some glowing girl wrote it on a window and told us."

"What?" Lady Solar asked. "What 'glowing girl'?" Soul raised his eyebrows. "She's not with you?"

"No," the tall woman answered, then shook her head. "But it's alright. If anything, she's probably on our side. Keep an eye out for her." Her golden eyes moved to look at Maka, and the meister suddenly wanted to move backwards; maybe putting a foot back would do.

"Do you have any idea why this girl came to you? Have you any idea?" Lady Solar asked, bending down to Maka's level. Her tone was soft and gentle, a tone that, Maka recognized, had been used by her mother a long time ago. She shook her head.

"No? Really?" She sighed. Holding the meister's shoulders, green eyes met gold ones as the tall woman spoke. "Maka, you know how powerful your soul is, don't you?"

"It's not really that powerful," Maka said modestly; the way the woman was wording it didn't make her want to feel special, not with the cause of that standing in the room right now. (At least that was who she preferred to give the credit to – but if she were even more honest, she would say that the both of them were what made each other special, she knew that.) "Soul can only help me channel it. I can't do anything without him."

Lady Solar nodded, but kept her hand on Maka's shoulder. "It's all the same to Pitch; he's after you."

"After Maka?" Spirit looked up. "What would this Pitch want with my daughter?"

"We're not sure," Kid said, folding his arms. "Nonetheless, there's definitely something about you that the Nightmare King wants, Maka." Soul watched his meister, not saying a word, but thinking so fast that even light couldn't keep up with the speed of his thoughts. To anyone else, they would dismiss it as a sign of worry – but the question was, what was Soul worrying about, really?

Maka looked down, trying to put her brilliant mind at work, but she came out with nothing. Who was this "Nightmare King"? Her eyes were still on the ground when she felt something warm press against her forehead, and her eyes darted upward for a split second to see that it was Lady Solar who had kissed her forehead. It reminded her again of her mother.

"Be on your guard, child. Do you understand?" she asked, looking Maka in the eye. She nodded, still unsure of what to do.

After a few moments of silence, Kid waved the weapon-meister pair off, commissioning them to find out as much as they could about this – and that if they ever see the spectral girl again, they should tell him. With that, Soul and Maka were going back down the guillotine pathway, more tense going out than they were coming in.

"Are you sure that you should just send them home to let them think out their decision?" Spirit asked once they were out of earshot.

The Woman in the Sun nodded, a gleam in her eyes that no one could tell where it came from. "Believe me, I know that they'll make their choice soon enough. They have to, after all – your little Maka is going to be involved, whether she wants to or not."

* * *

**Dun-dun-dun...**

**What do Maka and Soul have to do with Pitch's return?**


	5. Monsters Under The Bed

**(A/N: I'm getting this strange feeling that my stories are becoming somewhat lacklustre.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater or Rise of the Guardians. Or Guardians of Childhood – has everyone received their copies of Sandy's book yet?)**

* * *

Later that day, Maka and Soul went back to their apartment, each carrying a stack of books that Maka had checked out from the library.

"I can't believe you actually think we have to do research on this," Soul said, putting the books down on a table. "A little research's never hurt us, Soul. From what I've read before, the sealing of the Kishin Asura had something to do with this 'battle of darkness that was so great the world was never the same again'. What if this Nightmare King had something to do with that?" Maka inquired, looking at Soul, waiting for a reaction.

She got one when Soul finally blinked, sighed, and grabbed the stack of books from her arms, putting it on the table.

"Maybe that does have a point, but that doesn't mean I'm helping you with studying." he said, straightening back up. "I'm just gonna go prepare dinner or something."

"Alright, but don't burn it!"

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"*****

After a long and winded argument about Soul's cooking habits, he left to finally make dinner while Maka went to her books, cracking the first one open. It made the crisp sound of a book that hadn't been opened in a while. She flipped diligently to the chapter she was looking for. Her green eyes moved across the pages with a fervor that she only had when she was preparing for a big exam. The smell of Soul's cooking soon wafted into the room, as well as a certain sound that made Maka look up from her reading, as if in a dream-like state.

Soul was...humming? That was new. At least, he never usually hummed unless he was in an extremely good mood. And considering the fact that he was doing the cooking today, she couldn't be sure if he really was in a good mood or not. But indeed, he was humming, and Maka inhaled a good whiff of the dish he was making.

Her eyes then moved back to the book below her. She still needed to read up on this topic. No need to concentrate on whatever song he was humming.

The same second that she had turned back to her reading, the Death Scythe turned around to look at his meister. He chuckled a little, shaking his head at her determination.

"Well, I've definitely got the best meister in the world," he said to himself, and even he couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not.

* * *

After dinner, Maka and Soul retired to their rooms, the former carrying her books with her to her desk. Soul raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're gonna read all that? You're gonna wear your eyes out if you keep reading."

"My eyes will be fine, Soul," Maka sighed, her brows creasing. "Now just go to sleep and let me research on this."

"Alright, but is it _really_ necessary, Maka?"

"Soul, we've gone over this already!"

"Fine, sheesh, Maka," Soul conceded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't know what he would say that would make her go straight to bed rather than stay up all night studying. After all, it was _her_ job to know about this, rather than him...

_She needs me. I know that._

_...Right?_

The Death Scythe shook his head. It was uncool to think about his feelings like that. Besides, what would happen if he let it out anyway? There was too much history between them to make him think that there was a chance of reciprocation.

So he went to his room with a simple "Good night," and ended it there.

Maka felt a twinge of guilt, but shook it off.

Her green eyes moved along the pages, soaking in every piece of information that the book on the desk could offer.

"_There was once a time of peace in the world, where there were no bloodthirsty kishin eggs in sight, but even then a single nightmare could be dangerous..."_

_Nightmare,_ Maka's mind repeated. She failed at stifling a yawn, yet she read further.

"_The day Asura became a kishin was the day a single nightmare could change everything..."_

A few paragraphs later, Maka found herself leaning onto her desk, and closing her green eyes...

* * *

...and then opening them, scanning her surroundings. Of course she was still in her and Soul's apartment, but something seemed off. Perhaps it was the fact that all their personal things – even the furniture – wasn't there. Maybe it was the fact that there were a few missing fixtures instead – she was lying down on her own bed but many of her things weren't there, making it look surprisingly emptier – or that she heard an unfamiliar noise in what should've been Soul's room.

"Soul?" she asked, getting up and stretching. Maka got on her feet and started walking to Soul's room. There she could discern that there was a female voice inside, and it wasn't Blair. She frowned, and turned the doorknob; she was surprised to see that it was open. When she opened it for a bit, she was even more shocked at the blue-and-green blur that whizzed past her ear. Maka turned around to check what that was – a hummingbird, maybe? – before looking back into the room.

A pair of amethyst eyes were staring right back at her.

Maka nearly jumped. "Oh, sorry," the woman apologized. "I was just a bit surprised to see you in here so soon." Maka looked the woman over – she was covered in green, blue, and yellow feathers, with insect wings fluttering continuously on her back. The meister wasn't quite sure what she was; maybe half-person, half-bird. Or maybe she was a fairy.

"Um..." Maka said, staring up at her, "...who are you, exactly? Are you a witch? Or something along those lines..."

"No, I'm not a witch," she responded. "But I am a magical being, if that's what you're wondering."

"Magical being?" the meister asked. "Then, where am I?" The bird-woman smiled and said, "You're in what was your apartment before you moved in. Now, there's no one living in here, but you didn't know that at this time."

" 'At this time'?"

"Sorry. I forgot to tell you that you're in the past right now." She then gestured to the window. "Come and see."

Before Maka knew it, her feet started moving of their own own accord towards the window. Her eyes widened when she saw what was outside.

And what was outside was her mother, except she was much younger, in her twenties now; and running towards her was a smiling 7-year old Maka Albarn.

"Mama!" the younger Maka called out, holding up her open palm, in which there was something small and white. "I lost a tooth!"

"Really?" her mother asked, bending down to her level so that she could see it better. "Yeah, Mama, it got really twitchy and then I could pull it out!"

"Well, Maka, you should put that under your pillow then." the older woman advised. "Under my pillow?" the child asked, putting the tooth in her pocket. "Why?" Her mother thought about it for a moment, and then answered, "I don't know, really. Maybe we used to do it for good luck."

"Really?" The little girl's eyes twinkled. "I should go read a book about it then." "Oh, Maka," her mother patted her head. "Someday you'll wear yourself out with those books." "That'll never happen, Mama," she said, and they both laughed as the older woman pulled her up on her shoulders, carrying her the whole way home.

Meanwhile, inside the apartment she was watching from, Maka looked dazed. "...I think I remember that," she said, her eyes softening in nostalgia. "I never found a book about that, though." The bird-woman smiled. "Children put their baby teeth under their pillows because of me. I used to come and take the milk tooth from under the pillow while the children were sleeping, and replace it with a reward, like a coin."

"Why don't you do it anymore?" Maka asked. "When I checked under my pillow the next morning, the tooth was gone – only there was nothing else waiting for me." "Oh, the tooth was gone because your mother came in the middle of the night and threw it out. She was in on it too – that's what parents did when I stopped." The bird-woman sighed. "As for why I don't do it anymore, it's because no one believes in me – that is, to say that no one thinks I'm real."

"But you are real," Maka interjected. "You're here in front of me."

"Am I real?" she asked, and the question alone seemed to give her an air of mystery. Then the bird-woman flew to the door, opening it and, with a wave of her hand, gestured for the meister to follow, which she did."

Instead of looking at her bedroom door, though, Maka found herself in her old bedroom, the one she had before her mother and her father divorced. In this memory, she was much younger than before – about 4 or 5 at the most. She was looking under the bed and crying for her Mama.

A moment later, her mother came into the room. "Maka?" she asked. "What's wrong, sweetie?" "Mama," the little girl wailed, "my crayon fell under my bed and I'm afraid the monster under the bed will come and get it."

"Don't worry, Maka, there's no monster under your bed," her mother reassured her, reaching under the bed for the lost crayon. "There's nothing there; your crayon's alright." She pulled it out, much to the child's delight. "See? It's alright."

"Thank you, Mama," Maka said, and her mother kissed her on the forehead. "Your welcome, dear."

The grown-up Maka watched the scene unfold with an even stronger longing for her mother than the days before. How she could have let her mother go abroad so easily, why she didn't beg more to go with her, all of these things echoed in her mind as she pined for just one more embrace from her Mama.

"Your mom is wrong," the bird-woman said in a quiet voice. The meister looked up. "Where was she wrong?" she asked, prepared to defend her mother if necessary.

"There," the former pointed at Maka's memory, "when she says that there isn't anything hiding under your bed – of course there's something there, but he's always hidden, ready to strike – and now he's back."

Maka swallowed. "Pitch?"

"I was hoping you would say that," the bird-woman said. "It seems you've already found out about the return of Pitch Black, the Nightmare King. He spreads fear, brings nightmares, and wants to plunge the world in darkness. Now he won't just be going after children." She pointed a finger at Maka.

"He'll be after you."

"Me?" Maka asked.

"Yes." She nodded gravely. "But what exactly does he want with me? I know Lady Solar said that I have something special, but–"

"You conversed with the Woman in the Sun?" the bird-woman asked. "You can trust her, Maka; her and the spectral girl."

"You know about her?" Maka asked. "Why aren't you telling me more? I need to know more about this!"

"Don't worry, Maka," she put a hand on the meister's shoulders, "you'll find out in due time when the rest of the Guardians come." Maka blinked, her green eyes still showing confusion. "Guardians...?"

The bird-woman nodded, before she began to fly away, calling out in Soul's voice, "_Maka...wake up!..."_ It sounded very far away.

"Wait!" Maka called. "You have to tell me more! Wait!"

But the vision slowly faded, and was replaced with Soul's red eyes, the feeling of him shaking her shoulders, and the all-too familiar scent of fire.

* * *

**(A/N: * - Reference to Ep. 27, where Arachne says Soul was the one who burnt the curry. Maka was not pleased with the information.**

**Can you wait for the next chapter? I hope it'll update soon...)**


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